In the Long Run

When my son told me that he and his wife were expecting their first child, my first grandchild, my reaction was probably a little atypical and self-centered. I was excited for them, and glad that they would be able to experience the joy of parenthood. But, on the other hand, it took some adjusting to think of myself as being a grandmother. I wasn’t too keen on the idea of being called Grandma, Granny, or Grams, and entering what I perceived as being the “purple hair and strong perfume” zone. I immediately began agonizing over a suitable, younger-sounding, fun name that I could have my grandchildren call me.

The task has been unusually lengthy and daunting. My friends have tried to help. How about Nana, they suggest. It’s OK, but not really unique. I’ve thought of variations, like Nanu (sounds like a killer whale, or Mork’s alien greeting) or Nano (more hip and up-to-date). One woman told me her grandkids call her “Happy”. I’m not sure I could live up to that 100% of the time.

Of course I’ve considered foreign language equivalents. Two of my sons have lived in Russia, so Babushka would seem appropriate. But my son who is the new father apparently feels that word has a somewhat negative association. My pickleball partner, who is Welsh, proposed Nain (pronounced “nine”). I studied German, so that word, too, has a negative association. But Oma, a German nickname for grandma, is still in the running.

In a humorous “Seinfeld” episode a few years ago, Elaine received phone calls from a young boy who thought she was his grandmother, and addressed her as “Gammy”. So Gammy Cyppy is one of my possibilities. Or just plain Cyppy. Hmmm….GC? CC? I could go on extrapolating.

One grandmother I spoke to is called Gargy, and who knows where her grandson got that! Another grandmother was called GrandmaMolly (even though her name is Gwen) because she had a dog named Molly. I have skeptical feelings about “Pickles” even if it is the dog that is the namesake for my beloved sport. In the end, I’m sure I’ll be called what my grandchildren want to call me, no matter how much I try to influence them. And whatever The Little Princess calls me will sound just right.

Posted by Cyppy at 8:37 PM  6 comments

I was eating a breakfast of a bagel spread with peanut butter when I saw the story on the television news. With concern, and a little surprise, the news anchor announced a recall on ConAgra foods peanut butter, specifically Peter Pan and Great Value brands with serial number 2111. The news report included a map of highlighted states, mostly in the east, which had identified cases of salmonella poisoning believed to be caused by eating the tainted peanut butter. My state was not close to the affected states.

I looked at my bagel suspiciously. I felt my stomach gurgling suspiciously. Was I feeling nauseated? I decided what I was feeling was hunger, and I finished the bagel. Afterward, I nonchalantly sauntered to the cupboard to check the peanut butter jar lid. 2-1-1-1! I couldn’t believe it. Now I was feeling sick.

All that morning, I anxiously awaited the arrival of tell-tell symptoms. I thought my head ached. Did I have a fever? Uh-oh—what was that twinge in my stomach?! I went about my customary work and play, waiting and wondering.

Then I played several excellent games of singles pickleball, soundly defeating my opponent. Impressed, he joked, “Just what did you have for breakfast?!” I laughed and told him the story.

Three days later, I’ve luckily had no adverse reaction. The real victims of the peanut butter poisonings are convalescing or contemplating lawsuits. I, on the other hand, in a fit of indefensible frugality, have brazenly considered dipping into my jar of peanut butter again. What’s more, I have yet another jar with the same serial number in my food storage. I guess I’ll just toss them both. But first I’ll remove the lids so that I can send them in for the $2.89 per jar refund.

Posted by Cyppy at 5:58 PM  2 comments

A French historian, Henry Houssaye, wrote, “Tell me whom you love and I will tell you who you are.” This compelling statement could be altered to include “Tell me whom and what you love, and I will tell you who you are.”

The best indicator of what we love is that to which we devote the most time and energy. What and whom we say we love, or even think we love, may very well be different from the evidence that our behavior presents. Are we devoting as much time as we should to the people and things that we profess to love the most?

The realities of life often interfere with our priorities. We may become sidetracked or lackadaisical, disillusioned or rebellious, confused or cynical. The love that we profess may not be the love that we show. Who we become, as a result of whom and what we love, may not be what we intended to be.

“And this is love, that we walk after his commandments…” (2 John 1:6) The commandments provide wonderful insights into whom and what we should love, and then give us exacting guidelines to help us nurture and cultivate that love. Righteously striving to keep the commandments will help us focus on the people and the things that we should love the most.

Posted by Cyppy at 10:20 PM  1 comments

Call it blonde moments, aging, or maybe senility. Whatever it is, notable instances of memory lapse are exasperating me more and more often. I try to write all my appointments (when I remember) in my planner, and I review my planner frequently (when I remember). I schedule pop-up reminders on my computer, and post sticky note cues all over the house. These band-aid methods help me to remember appointments and commitments, but it’s the names that still confound me.

Yesterday in a parking lot, I saw a woman that I know approaching me. She had been in one of my classes about a year ago, and I could remember several things about her. She liked to ride horses, and she had worked as a ranch hand, until a riding accident limited her abilities. She was soft-spoken with a quick smile, and a very pragmatic attitude. I remembered she lived alone quite a way out of town. But, I couldn’t remember her name. I tried desperately to pull it out of the fuzzy, furthest nooks of my brain before she was close enough that I would have to address her. Her name just wouldn’t come to mind.

“Hello, there, lady!” I called out merrily, and safely. I’ve found that when I don’t remember a name, calling the person “lady” or “guy” in a friendly, noncommittal way sometimes buys just enough time to recall the actual name, and then use it later in the conversation.

“Oh…uh, hi..!” I could tell by my acquaintance’s response that she, too, recognized me, but I was pretty sure she couldn’t remember my name either. Good, we were on equal ground! We politely chatted about the weather, and her job, and I felt like her name would be rolling “trippingly off the tongue” at any moment. “It’s a “C” name......what is it?!” I was still searching for it. It irked me that I couldn’t produce it.

She left and I got into my car. “Chloe. No, that’s not it. Connie? No….Chlorine?...not even a name!” I resolved to look up her name in my records the minute I got home. But there was no sticky note on my steering wheel to remind me, so of course, by the time I got home, I didn’t remember to do it.

Today I was sitting in Sunday School, and I thought I was concentrating on the lesson, when it popped into my head with no instigation. CLARA! I almost said it out loud. I was somewhat appeased that it was indeed, a “C” name.

I hope my name retention skills will improve, and it won’t take me 18 hours to figure out a forgotten name. But hey, [girlfriend] [bud] (sic), until then, would you mind wearing a sticky note with your name written on it?!

Posted by Cyppy at 2:45 PM  2 comments

Throw the confetti, buzz the kazoos—I’m celebrating my one-year blogiversary! This past week I’ve contemplated my reasons for starting a blog last year, and whether I’ve accomplished my purposes.

It has been an amazing journey! This whole experience has just been unbelievable, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. I’ve learned soooo much about myself! I really am a different person now, from when I first started blogging, and you, the readers, are simply incredible!

Wait. Strike that last paragraph! I think I’m confusing my “reality show exit speech” with my blog evaluation! Let me try again:

When I started this blog last year, I dreamed of attracting a cult following of eager “In the Long Run” readers who waited with frenzied anticipation for each new entry. That definitely hasn’t happened. My husband says I need to write political commentary if I’m ever going to sustain a large, loyal readership. Sorry, not my interest, nor my style.

I wanted to see if I could write well enough to legitimately call myself a writer, having always fancied myself as such. Based on quantity alone, I’d say I’ve done pretty well, averaging 1.5 posts per week. That’s certainly better than my journal writing. Wait. This is a journal of sorts. Now, if you’re judging quality…well, I’ll let you, the reader, be the judge of that. One member of my family is a little critical of my “English composition” style, but I cheekily give myself high marks!

I hoped to meet and communicate with new and interesting people through a safe, and somewhat anonymous medium. With the exception of one or two, the only people I’ve communicated with are people that I already know, even if some of them sign their comments as “Anonymous”. But, I will say this: you are all very interesting, and even entertaining, people, and I’ve enjoyed your responses to my writing.

I was looking for a creative outlet that might also provide amusement to other people. I’ve tried to avoid mean-spirited ridicule in my writing, while allowing for some good-natured ribbing. I don’t know if Mr. and Mrs. Bad Dogs would agree with my assessment, but as their dogs are barking even as I write, I think I really don’t care!

It’s been a good year, with musings on ordinary experiences that elicit memories and smiles, and with enough introspection to keep me moving in the right direction. In the Long Run has been a satisfying venture.

Posted by Cyppy at 8:32 PM  5 comments